


i'm so tired

by vellichorthing



Series: one shots [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Sad, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellichorthing/pseuds/vellichorthing
Summary: Louis struggles with depression. Harry's a supportive boyfriend.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: one shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834300
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	i'm so tired

**Author's Note:**

> hi so bascially Louis is how i feel constantly and yeah. also didn't mean for there to be smut but oh well. ALSO also i stayed up all night writing this oops so yeah hope yall like it
> 
> twitter: 1DYSL

Discarded on the wood floor is a purple towel, damp from a recent shower. Louis had laid it there in a lazy haze, exhaustion taking over his body and soaring through his veins. Some days were easier to wake up to, when he had woken up to Harry holding him tight as the sun fell against his tanned skin. Those days, he felt like he was invincible, as if nothing held him back.

Today was not such a day, rather one that felt like Louis had weights permanently strapped to his ankles, dragging behind him across the wood floor as he made his way back into bed. He fluffed his pillow a couple times before laying his head down. His damp hair fell onto his face, water dripping down to his eyes.

He began to cry. It was slow at first, the lump in his throat an indicator that it was sure to come, before he felt his entire body shake with anticipation. A sound of agony escaped his lips, spit sputtering onto his pillow as he sobbed, his tears soaking his already damp cheeks. He pulled the heavy sheets around himself, forming a cocoon over his slender figure, allowing the comforter to become his Harry, for only a moment.

Louis craved his lover’s touch as he shook, the sobs echoing around his empty room. Harry had bought some décor for their tiny apartment, hoping Louis would gain the energy to put some of it up on the off-white walls. He never had the energy for anything anymore.

Knees against his chest, he felt himself involuntarily gasp for air as he let out another excruciating sob. The sound rang in his ears as he held himself tight, oxygen struggling to reach his lungs as he buried his face into the pillow that smelled like blueberries. It was Harry’s pillow, which only made him cry more.

He missed Harry; his heart ached for his presence beside him in this moment. It was sickening how dependent he was, how he needed Harry around constantly to feel serotonin in his brain. Harry had to work all the time to be able to provide for them, to pay the bills and keep gas in their car. Louis hated it; hated that Harry had to work, hated that he cried over it, hated that he couldn’t be a functioning adult and do adult things. He felt powerless as he cried into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that would stop the tears from flowing.

Depression was something he had dealt with for some time now. It had gotten so bad, with the panic attacks and all, he had to quit his long-time job working at the grocery store down the road to be able to deal with his pain. The pain was unbearable sometimes; it wasn’t an easy fix with medication because it wasn’t physical. It was his brain, how it ached almost like a migraine. It was hard to describe, even to Harry, who seemed to be so sympathetic and understanding to him.

It was a miracle Harry had stayed at all. Sometimes, Louis had outbursts of anger and projected it onto Harry, the one person who he relied on for everything. And yet, Harry would hold him later that night, pressing kisses to the back of his neck, comforting him with soft words of encouragement and love. Harry stayed for the moments when Louis was okay, when Louis felt like he was over this heap of sadness that constantly followed him like a pestering rain cloud. The days when the sun shined brighter, Louis’ eyes were full of color. He would attempt to cook dinner for when Harry got home after a long shift, or put one of their pictures he had printed into a frame and set it on their bedside table next to the vanilla candle Harry would light as they watched a movie together (Louis always got to choose which film they’d watch. Most times, it was _Pulp Fiction_ , to Harry’s dismay).

Louis wiped the tears away from his cheeks as he rose from the bed, his legs crossed. He fixed his hair a bit, still damp from his unfulfilling shower. He thought of things he could do in the day to fill the agony in his heart; he could paint, play the keyboard that Harry got him for Christmas, read a book … yet these all sounded exhausting to his mind. He would rather stay in bed all day, stay nice and clean for when Harry came home. He wrapped his arms around himself, attempting to find the strength to stand.

Eventually, he did. With shaky legs, he placed his feet to the ground incredibly slow, feeling the coolness on the pads of his feet. He looked over at the photo of him and Harry in university, just before they had graduated. Harry’s hair was wild, full of curls and his smile brighter than Andromeda. They had just come back from celebrating the end of the Spring semester, and how they passed their classes with flying colors.

He leaned over to grab a random pair of boxers from the ground, sliding them on over his legs smoothly. They sat comfortably on his hips, hugging him just so. Opening the bedside table drawer, he found a neglected pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out, lighting it with a trembling hand as he stood from the bed, his knees cracking from the pressure. He felt light-headed as he walked over to the bathroom sink, resting his hands on the edges of the sink to steady himself as he stared into the mirror, his shoulders hunched over.

Disheveled, miserable, alone. Louis felt these three words swarm around in his mind, consuming his thoughts. He remembered what his therapist had told him, how he should attempt to say at least one positive thing about himself every morning, a nice affirmation for himself. How he shouldn’t depend so much on others for compliments. He should learn to love himself.

With a heavy sigh, Louis whispered, “Pretty.” No, he didn’t feel it as he said it, while staring at the acne forming on his jaw, his eyes slack and tired. He pressed the cigarette to his lips, watching as he blew the smoke against the mirror, watching it dance along the glass as it faded into the air around him.

He breathed in through his nose, a faint smell of vanilla encompassing his senses. With tears in his eyes, he spoke once more, “I am … kind.”

That was something he could believe, for the most part. Other than yelling at Harry for no apparent reason, he was kind. He was good to Harry. He would massage Harry’s feet after a long day of work, even though he detested feet of any kind, and would help wash Harry’s hair while they showered at night, watching the silky soap run down Harry’s spine. He also cared for Harry to the best of his abilities by buying him things he needed with his disability benefits he received every so often (his mental illness was bad enough to qualify, he supposed). He would sway in the kitchen like it was a dance floor with Harry, admiring his loud laughter as they kissed each other softly, so softly, so lovingly. He hoped he was enough.

Staring at his collarbones, he felt himself say, “Sexy.” He couldn’t help but chuckle as he said it, not sure whether he believed it or not. He felt sexy when Harry would bruise kisses onto his torso and down to his stomach. He felt sexy when he would give twirl for Harry, showing off his new jeans that fit his curves scrumptiously. When they made love, he felt sexy whenever Harry would reach over and bite his earlobe as he thrusted into him, whispering something dangerously dirty in his ear that would send him over the edge, moaning back into his mouth as they kissed feverishly.

Louis felt that was enough positive affirmations for the morning as he pulled out his toothbrush, beginning to brush his teeth. He couldn’t remember the last time he did without Harry having to remind him.

God, Harry was truly an angel sent from Heaven to love Louis. When they had met in university during a boring semester of Biology, he knew in that moment Harry was his soulmate. The way Harry had given him a pen to use when he had forgotten his while winking at him had sent Louis’ heart into overdrive as it had thumped heavy in his chest, barely able to breathe the words, “Thank you,” as their fingers touched. From then on, they had spent all their free time together. Granted, it wasn’t much since at the time; both had part-time jobs and tons of studying to tend to, but it was enough.

As he rinsed his mouth out, he reminisced their first kiss. He had taken Harry to a public park near school, planning on admitting his crush on the handsome boy. Instead, Harry had moved them against a tree, cupping Louis’ face as he kissed him hotly, their breath fanning over their blushed faces as their shared a moment made for a silly rom-com movie. Louis kissed him back with everything he held in his heart, desperately clawing at his t-shirt that fit snuggly against his body, just see-through enough to give Louis an idea of what laid underneath.

Their first time in bed together was awkward. Harry had never laid with a boy before, but thankfully Louis had had some experience and attempted to lead him through the sloppy steps of what sex was. It was painful at first, since it had been a while since Louis had properly laid with someone, but it was worth it to see the faces of adoration Harry had made through it all, how determined he was to make Louis feel good, which was enough for Louis to come in minutes after Harry had pushed inside him, his insides seizing up from the high he got as Harry came moments later. They hadn’t spoken much throughout the whole thing, mostly small whimpers, and accidental loud moans from Louis directly into Harry’s ear, leaving him with a headache the next day. Eventually, they had found out, through trial and error, what worked for them.

Louis opened the bottle full of tiny tan pills swiftly, used to the resistance after years of taking them. He felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered when he first told Harry about his depression, how it was beginning to take over his life. He remembers how Harry had held him in his arms against the cold tile floor of the community bathroom as Louis embarrassingly cried about it, how ashamed he was to be dependent on medication to help him get through the day.

He wondered why he bothered taking them anymore. At this point, Louis’ body had seemed to become immune to the artificial serotonin. He took them anyway because Harry had noted they helped his mood, kept him motivated, at least for a little while. He would need to talk to his doctor about switching medications … again. He had gone through so many; it was almost irritating to have to switch through different medications constantly. It felt like every appointment his doctor was either raising the milligrams or prescribing something new.

Somehow, Louis’ feet led him to the closet, where he threw on one of Harry’s hoodies and a pair of basketball shorts that hung low on his hips. He found some clean socks and sat on the floor, tongue to cheek as he put them on, keeping his feet warm.

When he found himself in the kitchen, a blur of hallway passing him, he found a carefully crafted note next to a pre-made PB & J sandwich from Harry. In scrawled handwriting, it wished Louis a good day and to be sure to water the plants on the patio (he had forgotten the last time he watered them). Louis held the note to his chest, the paper crumpling under his grip.

His hips ached as he glided to the dining table, setting the plate with the sandwich on the table. He looked over at the clock; it was 12:45 pm. He had either slept in or cried a bit longer than he thought.

He heard a tiny meow below him, glancing over at his cat Eureka, a small gray cat who loved to sit on Louis’ face in the middle of the night and suffocate him with her long fur. He reached down, scratching her back as she meowed softly, demanding her food. Louis tsked, “Harry fed you this morning, love.”

She was insistent, however, as her meows became louder and more repeated. He sighed, leaving his half-eaten food on his plate and found a yummy treat for her in the pantry. Harry had taken the time to keep their food stored in plastic containers and labeled each depending on what was contained inside; pasta, cereal, canned goods, and simply put, Eureka. She had her own stash full of cat food and treats, plus a bit of catnip whenever Louis felt like watching Eureka go a bit wild for fun.

He bent over, placing a couple of pebble-sized treats on the ground next to her empty food bowl. She happily laid down as she ate, purring when Louis caressed her face. She was spoiled.

He had five hours to take up his time while he waited for Harry to come home. Harry worked at a business firm as a marketing director, coming up with ways to sell products effectively to consumers. He worked alongside big names in the market, persuading big chains to sell their products in store or online. He loved his job, and Louis loved that it made Harry happy.

Louis had been a teacher for a couple years before leaving. He truly enjoyed it, creating lesson plans with the other teachers in the English department and reading classics with his open-minded students. He loved receiving gifts from his kids, who admired him so deeply, who stayed after class to discuss the lesson or to talk about some high-school drama that was bustling around. He prayed one day he’d be able to return, to get himself and his mental issues in order so that he could function normally.

His last day of work was an emotional one. He had come home sobbing, having stayed at the school late enough, packing the rest of his things, knowing that when he returned home, Harry would be there with dinner ready and his arms open, ready to embrace him. He longed for that now, waiting for Harry’s return, ready to shower him with kisses and questions about his day.

Returning to his food, he finished the rest of his sandwich before rinsing the plate off and setting it in the dishwasher. He washed his hands, rubbing the soap against his hands. He thought more about what he could do throughout the day, deciding that he should probably water the plants before he forgot.

After watering the plants, he sat down on the chair outside, finding it hard to breathe. It irritated him how easily worn out he became after doing a simple task. He found a cigarette on the table, placing it to his lips and lighting it before puffing on it a few times, feeling the rush of nicotine flow throughout his body. He looked over into the living room, noticing how inviting the couch looked, how the fuzzy green and white blanket hung over the back of it. He put out his cigarette, standing up and felt his joints crack as he splayed against the cushions, his eyes closing with a smile on his face.

Eureka jumped onto Louis’ stomach, an “oof!” escaping his lips. He looked at her tiny face, “What do you think you’re doing?”

She proceeded to knead her claws into the hoodie, thankfully not scratching at Louis’ skin. He found the TV remote, flipping through the channels, looking through until he found the daily news, watching the news reporter talk about the upcoming weather. Sunny, clear skies with a low of 60 and high of 75. The perfect weather for a picnic.

He couldn’t find the strength to get up and prepare a basket full of food, accompanied with plates and silverware and the bottle of wine that sat in the back of the fridge. Instead, he closed his eyes, imaging how he would lay out a blanket and put tiny flowers in Harry’s hair, who would make a fuss but allow Louis to do so, admiring him as he did so. He imagined how he would take a picture of Harry, adding it to his favorite’s album in his phone and possibly making it his wallpaper, replacing the picture of a wasted Harry with a lop-sided smile and shiny eyes.

Abruptly, tears pooled at his eyes, sliding down the side of his face as his body jumped, a sob escaping his lips. He felt so useless, so utterly pathetic. He wished his stupid fucking meds would kick in, he wished he was a normal adult who could shower without being reminded to or have a job and feel like he had some kind of control in his life. He prayed Harry got off work early so he could hold him on the couch as they watched a movie.

Powerless was a good word to describe him. Powerless to fight against his darkened mind, against the weights that dragged him down. He stared at the ceiling above him, the tears slowly stopping as he felt himself drift back into sleep. His eyes hooded as he let his arm hang off the couch, praying for a different mood when he woke up.

The clock read 4:48 when he eventually sat up from his nap, stretching his arms. His mood hadn’t lightened up much, but he was well rested. He felt jittery at the thought of Harry showing up soon, longing for his warmth. He found Eureka splayed out on the floor, her body rising and falling as she slept. He wondered what she was dreaming about.

He felt dry tears on his cheeks, so he walked over to the kitchen sink and rinsed his face off. He grabbed a banana from the fruit rack, peeling it as he settled back to the couch. The TV had somehow been turned off, the remote laying on the ground. He picked it up, setting it back down on the coffee table next to the array of magazines Harry liked to collect. He grabbed one, flipping through the pages, his eyes traveling to a particularly interesting article.

On the page, an array of multiple sex toys was advertised, ranging from vibrators to BDSM items Louis had no interest in. He felt himself get worked up at the thought of Harry using a sex toy, pleasuring himself in their bed, his legs wrapped up in their sheets. Louis groaned, his cock hardening in his sweats. It was enough to get off, he supposed.

Stumbling to his room, he threw off his sweatpants and got to work, wetting his hand with spit and going down his length, biting his lip as he thought about a sweaty Harry on top of him, pressing into him with deep thrusts. He shuddered when he ran his fingers across the tip of his cock, spreading the pre-come around before going back down, his movements harsher as he continued.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he felt his gut tighten in pleasure, pure ecstasy present on his face. Sex was one of the only ways he was able to get in a good mood, all the chemicals that released in his brain granting him relief from constant mental agony.

His free hand squeezed his thigh as he came, wetting his bare stomach with his hoodie pushed up to his neck. He grabbed the towel from earlier this morning and wiped his stomach, his breathing slowing as he rode out his high, thrusting a bit more into his fist before dropping both his hands to his sides. He heard the front door open as meows echoed throughout the apartment. _Harry_.

He quickly put his clothes back on, practically running into the living room and jumped into his lover’s arms, who only chuckled and pet his hair, “Hi baby.”

“I missed you,” Louis nuzzled his face into the crook of Harry’s, breathing in his scent. God, he was needy. Harry set down his suitcase as he held Louis in one arm, the other arm wrapping beneath his bottom. He waltzed them both into their bedroom, plopping Louis down on the bed. Louis let out a breathy laugh as his body jumped on the mattress.

Harry examined Louis. He had flushed cheeks, his hands shaky and he noticed the purple towel discarded on the towel. He noticed a trickle of sweat run down the side of Louis’ face. Harry smirked.

“How was your day?” Louis attempted to cut the tension, backing up slightly when Harry crawled over his body, planting kisses on Louis’ cheek. Louis let his head fall back as Harry moved his lips to the front of his neck, right on his Adam’s apple. His hair tickled Louis’ nose.

“Mmm, couldn’t stop thinking of you,” Harry purred, “You and your perfect little body.”

Louis shuddered when Harry nipped at the skin on his collarbone, Harry’s hand resting on the bottom of the hoodie, “I …”

“Couldn’t wait for me to come home, hmm?” he was referring to the dirty towel on the ground.

“Waited all day,” Louis held his breath as Harry pulled the hoodie off him. Louis played with the tie that hung on his neck, pulling it to bring Harry’s lips to his. They pressed their mouths together, their tongues vicious and quick as Louis untied the tie, brushing off his blazer. As he fumbled with Harry’s belt, he moved his lips to Harry’s neck, sinking his teeth into his skin. Harry hissed.

“So needy, baby,” Harry whispered as he sat up, pulling down his slacks and toeing off his shoes. After unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it somewhere on the ground, he reached for the hem of Louis’ shorts, dragging them down his legs to reveal Louis’ hidden hard-on in his boxers. He moved back up to Louis’ face, kissing his red lips lightly. He looked at Louis, concern in his eyes.

“What?” Louis questioned, worried.

“Good day today?” Harry asked, blinking a couple times. His hands rested on either side of Louis’ face, holding him up. Louis turned his head to the side, shame written all over his face.

“I tried,” Louis started, shaking, “Mostly slept.”

“Showered?”

“I did,” Louis turned his head, looking at Harry, “Took my meds, watered the plants, like you asked.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled kindly, “What’d you have to eat?”

“The sandwich you made, a banana,” Louis barely whispered. He hated these conversations, Harry checking up on him. It made him feel like a child almost, someone who needed to be babied. He knew Harry only did it out of love and concern, but it made him feel dumb.

“You look so lovely,” Harry lightly kissed Louis’ lips, “All fresh and clean.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Louis’ voice cracked, “Please.”

Harry frowned, rolling over to his side, sliding one of his arms under Louis, “Like what, darling?”

“I … I know you mean well, but …” Louis was suddenly nervous, “I feel like a child.”

“What do you mean?”

“You checking up on me every day, making sure I did normal things people do during the day, like eating and showering,” Louis sighed, placing his hand against Harry’s cheek, “I don’t want to be babied.”

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Harry was apologetic, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay. What can I do differently?”

Harry was too much, so loving, so fucking understanding it made Louis start to cry for the third time that day. Harry immediately wrapped him up, holding him tightly as he sobbed on his shoulder, his tears wetting his skin. Harry held him tight, allowing him to let whatever he needed to out.

“How about this,” Harry decided as he rubbed Louis’ shaking back, “I let you tell me about your day. I won’t ask questions; just let you speak. How’s that?”

“That sounds okay,” Louis’ voice was muffled, “I can do that.”

Harry moved away for a moment to look at Louis, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Louis cried a little harder, “So much, so fucking much Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” Louis admitted. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, a frown forming on his face.

“My only goal is to make you happy, always,” Harry stated, “You’re perfect the way you are, baby. You’re so good to me, so kind and thoughtful. You make me so happy.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” Harry kissed Louis’ shivering lips, “Would I ever lie to you?”

“Never,” Louis smiled slightly, “Wanna love you forever.”

Harry chuckled, “And I you.”

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry neck as he moved impossibly closer to Harry, their lips colliding ever so lovingly, so passionately, their attentions only on each other in that moment.

“One day, you’re going to be … well,“ Harry couldn’t think of the words. He bit his lip as he stared at Louis’ wondering eyes, “Happier. Content. Your anguish will wash away.”

Harry brushed away the tears on Louis’ cheeks, peppering Louis’ face with kisses as Louis laughed a beautiful laugh, his hands pressed against Harry’s chest. Harry rolled back on top of Louis, his hands back on either side of Louis’ face. Louis breathed in as Harry made his way down Louis’ torso.

“Gonna make me feel good?”

“So good,” Harry pressed his lips on top of Louis’ bulge, Louis inhaling a sharp breath as Harry removed his boxers. Louis’ cock popped up, the tip dripping with pre-come. Louis groaned deeply as Harry took Louis’ length into his mouth, his tongue lapping at the head. He sucked as he bobbed his head, trying not to gag. His gag reflex was awful, but Louis didn’t care, Harry was good enough without having to deep throat him.

After a moment, Harry completely removed Louis boxers, placing a sweet kiss to Louis’ raised knee. He removed his own boxers, his cock rock hard and leaking. Louis’ eyes hooded, lust engulfing his dilated pupils as Harry reached over to the bedside table, taking out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Harry squeezed the lube onto his fingers, spreading Louis’ legs even more and rubbing up and down Louis’ entrance before shoving a finger in, Louis letting out a breath he didn’t know he had in him. He closed his eyes as Harry bent his finger, looking for Louis’ sweet spot. He knew he found it when he felt Louis clench around his finger. He slipped another in, scissoring his fingers as Louis let out a throaty groan of pleasure. Louis already felt like he was close to coming; he was barely over his last orgasm.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Louis pleaded, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist. Harry smirked as he stuck a third finger in, Louis barely breathing as he struck his prostate repeatedly. Harry wanted to watch him squirm, make him wait for a little bit.

“Gonna come, just like this,” Louis managed to let out, slightly yelling. Harry grinned, “Don’t.”

Louis squeezed his fists, “Please, baby.”

“Want you to wait until I do,” Harry removed his fingers, Louis feeling empty. He whined from the build up of an orgasm wash away.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to hold it,” Louis warned as Harry rolled the condom onto himself, “Got me riled up.”

“I think,” Harry teased Louis by placing the tip of his cock against Louis’ wet hole, “You did that to yourself.”

Louis hummed when Harry finally pushed in, Louis clenching around his member, Harry staying there without moving to allow Louis to adjust. Louis gripped at Harry’s shoulders, his nails digging into sweaty flesh. Harry flicked Louis’ tip, Louis letting out an, “Ah!”

Harry chuckled as he pulled back out of Louis, only to thrust back in after, the headboard smacking against the wall, “So sensitive.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Louis’ body shook as Harry made his thrusts consistent, the bed moving along with him. Harry moved his lips down to Louis’ nipple, taking it into his mouth as he continued to press into Louis.

“Don’t think you mean that,” Harry blew against the wet nipple, watching it become erect as Louis whined once more, “Gonna come, wanna come so bad.”

Harry ignored his pleas, continuing to pound into Louis as he let out more aggressive moans. Harry placed a hand on Louis’ face, wiping his hair off his glistening forehead. He pulled Louis’ ass up more, hitting his prostate directly as Louis tightened his stomach, trying not to come as Harry ruthlessly hit his prostate without mercy.

Louis closed his eyes, his head rushing with blood from the downward position of his body as Harry let out hot breaths of air over Louis’ chest, his lips pressed to his sternum. His movements became more erratic as he pressed further. Louis’ cock rubbed against Harry’s stomach, the skin turning purple as Louis gripped at his own hair, tears pricking at his eyes as he held his orgasm in. His entire body vibrated as he struggled to focus on not releasing all over them.

Their moans grew, harmonizing with each other as Harry felt his orgasm build up. Louis had never wanted Harry to come so fast, only so he could finally come.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Harry moved Louis’ hips back down so he could press kisses all over Louis’ face, “Open your eyes.”

Louis struggled to open them as Harry grabbed Louis’ chin, his fingers pressing into Louis’ cheek, “Open them.”

He finally managed, meeting green lustful eyes, pupils blown as he stared intensely at his lover. Harry gripped Louis hips as he finally came, letting out a long, deep moan from within his chest. Louis couldn’t hold it much longer after that; the feeling of Harry’s come filling inside the condom, inside Louis, was too much.

He let out a guttural yell as he came, long spurts of white shooting from him all over their stomachs as Harry kept thrusting into him, continuing to hit his sweet spot; just for fun, just to watch Louis squirm beneath him.

After a moment of heavy breathing and over-stimulating, Harry pulled out of Louis, letting him calm down. He removed the filled condom, walking to the bathroom to toss it in the trash. He could help but notice how dirty the sink was, full of little hairs from Louis shaving and forgetting to rinse the sink. Harry did it for him, quickly washing down the hair. He moved over to the bathroom, where there were towels thrown around on the ground. He picked them up, tossing them into the laundry basket as he heard Louis call for him.

He sauntered over back to the bed, where Louis laid in a fetal position, his eyes closed. Harry kissed both his eyelids, “Let’s take a bath.”

“Don’t feel like it,” Louis sounded exhausted. Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer; instead, he picked him up bridal style, setting in down in the tub. Louis laid there, naked and cold as Harry turned the faucet on, warm water filling the bath quickly. Louis felt like he could float away.

Harry stepped into the bath, Louis making room for him. He leaned his head against Harry chest as he turned the water off, the silence overlapping them as Harry kissed Louis’ hair, inhaling his scent.

He grabbed the bar of soap, lathering his hands before rubbing them over Louis’ hunched back. Louis held his knees to his chest, staring off at a crack in the tile of the wall.

They were silent as Harry rubbed Louis’ back and arms. He slowly spun him around, Louis sitting crisscrossed as Harry washed his front side. He ran his fingers over Louis’ tattoos, his collarbones, over the small hickey on his neck. Louis didn’t meet his eyes.

Harry leaned over, placing a long, slow kiss to Louis’ lips. A simple kiss, but one that Louis reciprocated back eagerly. He broke the kiss, pulling back to look at Louis.

Louis was stunning, more stunning than anyone he ever knew. His eyes were bright, yet tired, and his skin glowed from the silky soap that washed away the sweat from earlier events.

“All good?” Harry asked. Louis nodded, “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How good that was,” Louis was embarrassed, “Loved it. You should do that more often.”

“Maybe I will,” Harry chuckled as he squirt some shampoo in his hand. Louis leaned forward, wetting his hair. Harry began to lather the glittery shampoo into his hair, massaging his fingers into Louis’ scalp. He felt Louis’ hands latch onto his shoulders as he cleaned Louis’ hair.

Louis would never get over Harry.


End file.
